


Of Whiskey and Men

by Juniprr



Category: The Walking Dead (TV)
Genre: Anal Fingering, Anal Sex, Angry Daryl, Angry Sex, Bottom Jesus, Coming Out, Darsus, Fluff and Smut, Gay Sex, Implied/Referenced Homophobia, Insecure Daryl, Jealous Rick, M/M, Other, Rough Sex, Sexual Tension, Shameless Smut, Top Daryl, implied rickyl
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-04-09
Updated: 2016-04-10
Packaged: 2018-06-01 05:40:50
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 3,223
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6503089
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Juniprr/pseuds/Juniprr
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Daryl is finally accepting himself as a person. What better way to do that then a shot of whiskey and a submissive long haired stranger beneath him.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Thief

**Author's Note:**

> After watching Daryl and Jesus interact with each other, a friend and I decided writing a Darsus smut fic would be pretty awesome! A HUGE shout out to the best beta and friend I know, Riain! I don't know what I'd do with out ya. Hope y'all enjoy!

Daryl sat on the front porch with the permanent sour look he always kept on his face. This time he had something to be pissy about. He and Rick spent most of the day running around some young long-haired motherfucker who tried to steal their supply truck. Daryl was ten shades of pissed and sore from the unnecessary physical exertion. He'd make Jesus pay for the tense muscles and achy back that screamed with every motion of the hunter’s weary body.

Rick nudged Daryl, making him grunt and glare at the older man. Rick raised an eyebrow, sensing Daryl’s grumpy demeanor.

“You should go get cleaned up. I'd hate to break it to ya...for the fourth time this week...ya stink,” Rick chided, smirking as Daryl elbowed the cop hard in the ribs.

“Fuck you, Grimes,” Daryl mumbled, cutting his eyes at Rick. Honestly, Daryl was slightly relieved Rick was finally talking to him after the bomb Daryl dropped on him last week. It had been awkward since he finally came out to Rick. Literally. Let's just say there were a few beers and a kitchen table involved.

The mere thought of that night made a shiver run down Daryl’s spine. With a flushed face, the Hunter got up and stomped into the house, slamming the door behind him with an ear piercing crack.

Daryl was glad he'd opted for his own house in Alexandria instead of sharing it with someone. Many things changed with him when he grew close to the group, but he still liked to be alone. Daryl climbed the stairs with small grunts escaping his lips, his back aching as he meandered to his room. He froze in his doorway, his eyes settling on Jesus, who had apparently found Daryl’s hidden bottle of Jack.

“What the fuck are you doin’ in my house,” Daryl growled as Jesus smiled before he set the mostly full bottle back onto the dresser.

“I was just looking around,” Jesus answered, tucking a piece of his long hair behind his ear. Daryl’s eyes kept flicking to the bottle—He’d found it fair and square rummaging through the empty houses within the safe zone. It had been awhile since he’d had a decent drink, and was not up to sharing the whiskey.

“Yeah, rummaging around in my shit,” Daryl said, his voice echoing off of the bedroom walls. Jesus grabbed the glass bottle and held it up, the amber colored fluid sloshing around, making Daryl’s stomach flip flop.

“What, does this embarrass you?” Jesus chuckled as Daryl set his jaw. It wasn’t that Daryl was embarrassed to have someone know he drank, it was more he didn’t want to share. Daryl tried to lunge for the bottle but Jesus was a little quick for him. Hell, Jesus proved that when Daryl was running after his ass all over that field. Talk about a work out that Daryl was not expecting from the spindly fucker who had the balls to rummage through a stranger’s bedroom without a second thought.

“Give it,” Daryl growled, holding his hand out expectantly. Jesus took a step back and shook his head.

“I don't think I want to. Do you know how hard it is to find this stuff out here?” Jesus asked, shoving the bottle in his pocket. He buttoned his pocket and attempted to get past Daryl, who shoved him backwards and immediately went for his pocket, making both of the men tumble to the floor in a struggle.

“Goddamnit, hold still ya prick,” Daryl grunted, his hand grabbing at the buttoned pocket. Daryl was struggling to restrain himself from just beating the hell out of Jesus right there and then. Jesus squirmed under the hunter, trying to get up.

“I said hold still,” Daryl growled, grabbing Jesus's throat and slamming him back to the floor. Jesus' cock grew hard against Daryl, making Daryl’s eyes narrow. Maybe Daryl had an idea to make Jesus pay for the sore muscles from the run in the pasture earlier in the day. It was like a bad episode of Benny Hill, set in the apocalypse--not nearly as funny, and running from things trying to eat you.

Jesus opened his mouth to smart off, his eyes widening when Daryl reached in between them and roughly grabbed the thick bulge straining Jesus’ cargo pants. Daryl smirked to himself before moving in to push his lips onto the lips on the man beneath him, roughly prying Jesus' lips apart with his tongue. Jesus groaned into Daryl’s mouth, his nails digging into the hunter’s corded biceps.

A primal growl bubbled in Daryl’s throat as he grew almost animalistic. His fingers prying under Jesus' t-shirt as Daryl damn near ripped it from the younger man’s body. This is exactly what Daryl has needed to get out of his system. Sure, his experience with Rick was alright but it wasn't rough...he needed the aggression to satiate the primal side of himself.

“On the bed. Now,” Daryl barked, grabbing Jesus by the arm and jerking him up. Jesus obeyed, grunting as Daryl grabbed him by the hair and jerked his face eye level to his exposed cock. With another jerk of Jesus' long hair, the man eagerly took Daryl’s thick cock into his mouth.

Daryl completely let loose, jerking his hips forward until Jesus gagged. ‘This isn't enough,’ Daryl thought before shoving Jesus back onto the bed. Jesus looked up at Daryl, his clear blue eyes dark with lust and longing.

“Don't you say a fuckin’ word,” Daryl growled, yanking Jesus' cargo pants from his toned legs, the pants carelessly forgotten on the bedroom floor.

Daryl was more than pleased to see Jesus' painfully hard cock thud against his washboard stomach. He wasted no time wrapping his hand around it and giving it a few strokes. Jesus' hips twitched, his hands fisting the sheets as he moaned loudly. Daryl spit on his hand and continued to slowly pump Jesus' rigid cock, a satisfied smirk on his face.

“Do-..don't stop,” Jesus breathed, feeling Daryl release him. Daryl almost towered over him, his grip tightening on Jesus's hips as he less than gently flipped him over.

“You don't tell me what to do,” Daryl snarled, jerking Jesus onto his knees.

“Fuc-,”Jesus mumbled, his words sticking in his throat when Daryl shoved a spit covered finger inside of him. Daryl could've moaned at the sight before him. Jesus was bending and submitting in all the ways Rick hadn't. Daryl needed someone to bend to his will, rather than Daryl being the one to bend.

Daryl promptly reached into the oak nightstand drawer, pulling out a bottle of lube, the label peeling off the battered plastic of the container. He slathered the oil onto his cock, still holding Jesus in his place with one well placed hand. Daryl slowly guided his throbbing cock into Jesus's tight ass, letting out a string of curses as muscle pulsed around him.

The Hunter gave no time for Jesus to adjust before he brutally began snapping his hips forward, bottoming out in the younger man.

Jesus moaned freely, almost ripping the sheets from the mattress as Daryl slammed into him. The moans and gasps egged Daryl on, his calloused hand roughly jacking Jesus off as he thrusted hard from behind. Daryl’s hard and deliberate thrusts were bound to leave bruises on Jesus's tight ass.

“You don't cum ‘til I do,” Daryl warned, making Jesus grunt in protest. Jesus completely lost his hold on the small scrap of reality in the moment of fevered heat, his cum coating Daryl’s hand. Daryl cursed, Jesus' body pliant and still beneath Daryl as he pulled out-- marking Jesus on his lower back.

 

Daryl collapsed beside the younger man, feeling satisfied for once. He grabbed the bottle of whiskey that was sitting on the end of the bed, taking a long pull from it. Daryl didn't want to share by any means, but offering Jesus a drink wouldn't kill him. 

“Hey,” Daryl said, his tone soft as he nudged Jesus. The younger man grunted in response, not moving from the flattened haphazard position Daryl had left him in. The Hunter raised an eyebrow, nudging him once again. 

“Roll over, would ya?” Daryl asked, taking another quick sip from the bottle. Jesus obeyed, rolling over with a grunt as he looked at Daryl, his eyes still glazed.

“Wanna drink?” Daryl offered, Jesus looked at him surprised. 

“Last time I checked, you were hell bent on not letting me have any,” Jesus answered cockily, taking the bottle from Daryl’s hand and downing a few drinks. 

Daryl shrugged, messing with one of Beth's braided bracelets on his wrist. He wondered if Beth would've been proud that he was finally coming to terms with himself. Beth was the first one that he admitted his sexuality to, back in the moonshine cabin. 

“What's on your mind?” Jesus asked, his startling blue eyes trained on Daryl. Daryl shrugged, muttering something along the lines of ‘nothin’’. Unfortunately, Jesus wasn't one to leave questions unanswered. 

“That's a nice bracelet. Haven't seen a leather one like that before,” Jesus said, earning setting slow nod from Daryl who was obviously trying to avoid the subject. 

“Listen, Jesus….whatever the fuck your name is, I'm gonna go get in the shower. You're welcome ta join me,” Daryl said, figuring that sex would be easier than talking about his dead friend. 

Daryl got up, his muscles flexing as he stretched. Jesus’ mouth almost watered, his eyes washing over Daryl’s firm muscled body. Jesus followed Daryl to the bathroom like a horny teenager, wanting one more taste like his life depended on it. He'd save the questions for later.


	2. Memories

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you guys for the kudos and awesome reviews! I wasn't sure what to expect. A huge thank you to my wonderful beta, Riain! Onward to chapter 2 ~

Daryl jolted awake--a crack of thunder rattled the windows of the comfortable bedroom, followed by a streak of lightning. The scent of night rain wafting in through the open windows washed away the heavy scent of sex and sweat. Confusion seized Daryl’s brain for a moment before he recognized the young man tangled up in his arms. Had he seriously fallen asleep like this? This was not his usual M.O., that was for damn sure.

Daryl couldn't bring himself to untangle Jesus from his arms, he'd never been so comfortable. Daryl pulled the sheet up, feeling the cool night air sink into his skin. The hunter wasn't much for the whole cuddling thing, but this strangely felt nice. He hadn't done this with Rick. Not even close.

The more Daryl thought about Rick, more unwanted flashbacks from last week bombarded him. It wasn't like he didn't somewhat enjoy what he and Rick did, it just didn't feel right to him. He'd wanted to be close to Rick, in more than one sense, since the prison. Hell, since he'd seen Rick in the showers. Rick wet and naked was the stuff masturbatory material was made of, all hard planes and smooth tanned skin.

Daryl had known he was gay since he was a teenager, but that didn't change the resentment and guilt boiling inside of him. He'd only been with two men before Rick, and that hadn't turned out well. Besides being called a queer by Merle and getting the hell beat out of him, Merle had made Daryl hate himself for feeling the way that he did. Before Rick, Daryl hadn't felt that he was even worth the trouble of being understood. Rick had changed his attitude about life more than he would like to admit. 

~Last Week~

“C'mon, Daryl. We don't have anythin’ else to do. Just have a few beers with me,” Rick reasoned, setting a 24 pack of liquor store beer that he'd scavenged from his last run on Daryl’s kitchen counter. Daryl sighed, rolling his eyes as he motioned for Rick to sit down. A beer wouldn’t be a bad thing after the week they had both had dealing with these so called “Saviors”.

“Fine, but you're gonna have to crash on the couch ‘cause I ain't getting my ass chewed out by Michonne for letting you go home drunk,” Daryl said, opening a beer Rick had handed to him. Daryl knew trouble was brewing as he watched Rick damn near chug the warm beer. Beer was beer, even if it was out of date, skunked and hot. Desperate times meant beggars couldn’t be choosers. 

It was obvious Daryl was a tad jealous that Rick had gotten with Michonne, but it wasn't like Rick saw him that way. Fuck, Rick had thought that Daryl might have been hooking up with Beth. Of course he'd loved Beth, but as a friend, not something else. Beth was his friend and not a bit more. But to save himself from coming out to Rick, Daryl had told Rick that he and Beth tried it out a few times and nothing came of it. That lie just added to the guilt Daryl carried around on his shoulders every day. He shouldn’t have involved his dead friend in a lie like that, Beth was pure and virginal, she didn’t deserve being part of a lie.

By the seventh beer, Rick was trying to make actual conversation with the melancholy hunter. The guilt had been building up in Daryl for a good hour and he couldn't stand it anymore.

“Could ya shut up for a minute? I've got somethin’ to say,” Daryl blurted out, suddenly regretting his outburst. Rick looked concerned-- forehead creasing, his unfocused eyes holding tense emotion.

“What is it, Daryl?” Rick asked, leaning on the table, his eyes never leaving Daryl’s face. Rick knew it wasn’t like Daryl to blow up like this, something had been festering inside his second in command for awhile now.

“It's nothin’. Forget it,” Daryl muttered, trying to back step from the conversation. Daryl got up, walking to the counter for another beer. He didn’t want the emotion he knew painted across his features tipping Rick off. Even drunk, Daryl knew the cop would read him like a book. That was a skill Rick hadn’t lost with the world going to shit.

“You always do this. Ya say something, get my attention, then dismiss it like nothing you say matters,” Rick said, his attitude sparking from the alcohol and Daryl’s constant stubbornness. What Daryl had to say mattered, more than once it saved the family’s lives, which is why Rick trusted the hunter completely.

Daryl rolled his eyes and flopped back down into the wooden chair. They were both clearly buzzed, so what difference would it make if Daryl just told him? Rick had heard crazier shit come of Shane’s mouth, so what was one more crazy?

“Lemme guess...did ya knock someone up?” Rick chuckled, seeing Daryl’s face turn beat red as he looked down at his can. ‘Shit,’ Daryl thought to himself, ‘That’d be easier than explaining this, even though it’s impossible.’

Daryl looked up at him, Rick still sporting his goofy drunk grin. What he would do-- just to go animal on him, make him forget about Michonne for a while?

“Well?” Rick asked, grunting in surprise as Daryl practically pounced on him, hungrily pressing his lips onto Rick’s. Rick didn't say shit, he just went along with it almost as hungry and needy as Daryl was. This wasn’t Rick’s first time with a man apparently, which made Daryl wonder for a fleeting moment who the first man was, maybe Shane? The thought of that douchecanoe fucking Rick made Daryl want to retch, the thought going straight out the window as fast as it came in.

Rick grabbed Daryl by the hips, swiftly rolling the hunter over and pinning him to the cool kitchen tiles. Daryl’s trembling fingers scrabbled at Rick’s clean t-shirt, trying to get it off the cop’s muscled chest. Part of Daryl couldn't believe this was even happening, it was sudden, it was lusty, it was everything Daryl had dreamed of since the prison.

Rick wasn't being as rough as Daryl wanted, and it looked like Rick wasn't going to. Rick undressed himself, letting Daryl’s hands wander over his firm tanned abdomen. The alcohol was definitely clouding Daryl’s judgment, he wouldn’t have gone through with this at the pace it was going if he was sober, hell, his better judgement would have said no a long fucking time ago. 

“What about Mich-,” Daryl started, his mouth click shut as Rick ground his thick cock against Daryl’s, making Daryl groan-- his eyes flickering closed with sudden surge of lust coursing through his veins. 

“Don't worry about it,” Rick whispered into Daryl’s ear, his hot breath making Daryl’s heart thrum. He'd been waiting years for this, to feel Rick against him.

Rick reached down, unbuckling Daryl’s belt as he nipped and licked hot trails from Daryl’s neck to his chest. Daryl squirmed in anticipation as Rick slowly pulled Daryl’s battered jeans from his legs. Damn it, he wanted a little aggression at least, this romantic slow shit was not going to get the job done.

“Get up,” Rick ordered, pulling Daryl to his feet before pinning him face down onto the oak table. Daryl wasn't into bottoming, but he wanted this, so the exception would be made this once for Rick. 

Rick kicked Daryl’s feet apart, making the hunter bend at his will. He spat on his hand, wetting his cock before quickly working himself up to push into Daryl. Daryl’s back arched, hissing through gritted teeth, as the sharp pain of Rick stretching him to accommodate fired through his nerve endings like lightning through his spine. Rick eased forward, feeling Daryl’s ass tighten and seeing his body constrict, under the weight of his own weathered body.

Sweat beaded on Daryl’s brow, grunting as Rick slowly thrusted. Daryl didn't know how much longer he could stand the sting of pain and slow pace Rick forced their bodies into. Rick moaned behind him, pushing forward as an orgasm built up inside of him. Daryl could feel hot drips of Rick’s sweat falling on his lower back, cheapening the experience even more. 

Daryl stroked his own cock in hopes he'd cum, not completely feeling anything from Rick. Rick speared into Daryl with a grunt, his hot cum flooding Daryl. Daryl grunted, gritting his teeth as he felt Rick pull out, stumbling backwards into the counter. Rick leaned against the granite counter, out of breath and a bit dizzy. The beer and exertion was too much for the man, who rarely slept.

“C'mon, let's get ya to the couch,” Daryl sighed, helping Rick stand up straight. Rick wrapped his arm around Daryl’s shoulders, letting Daryl lead him to the couch in the darkened living room.

Rick flopped on the couch, trying to pull Daryl with him. Daryl deftly untangled himself from Rick’s grasp, agitation building in his chest. He didn't want to kiss Rick after that...whatever the hell just happened.

 

~Back to present~

 

Jesus shifted against Daryl, another loud boom of thunder ringing through the house. Daryl couldn't stop thinking about that night, he pretty well regretted it but he'd wanted to feel Rick like that since the prison. But this thing he had with Jesus felt different. 

This was something Daryl wanted to keep, something to hold onto, something only for him to have. Something to protect with his life.


End file.
